


Naked Lunch

by jibrailis



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-06
Updated: 2010-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibrailis/pseuds/jibrailis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames makes a wish for Arthur to be naked always. To Arthur's displeasure, it actually comes true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked Lunch

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Naked Lunch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953540) by [DarthEames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthEames/pseuds/DarthEames)



> For the awesome [deepsix](http://deepsix.livejournal.com>). Hope this cheers you up!

Being a forger was more constrictive than most people expected. True, being able to change your identity and fool people allowed for some interesting applications of power. True, Eames enjoyed being a trickster. But there were moments that were often overlooked by other professionals in the field, such as the long haul of intel gathering that was required to successfully impersonate a parent or a friend or a child. It wasn't the wild and irresponsible joyride Arthur sometimes scoffed and said it was; forgery had its _rules_. Rule number one was: humour the mark.

So that was how Eames found himself back home in England, trailing Jane Allen over sloping hills and staring at sheep and getting his shoes all mucked up with mud. That was also how, when Jane stopped at an inconspicuous well at the very top of the hill, burrowed in between two grassy planes, and told him that it was a wishing well, Eames just smiled and agreed. Jane produced a penny. Eames produced a penny. Jane squeezed her eyes shut and made a wish. Eames thought, _I wonder what we're having for lunch_ and _ha bloody ha, I wish Arthur was naked all the time. That'd be pretty marvelous.  
_  
He'd almost seen Arthur naked once, in Turkey when they had been forced to change into custodial uniforms for disguise. They'd had assassins and bullets after them then, but still Eames found the moment to admire the curve of Arthur's arse and the deceptive strength of his wrists. Some things were worth taking the time for. Even when Arthur turned around and gave him a sharp look like he knew exactly what Eames had been doing. Maybe it was just Eames' imagination that the sharp look had softened into amusement after. He would never know for sure. That was when the building had exploded, and they'd grabbed Ariadne and run.

 

* * *

 

Speaking of Ariadne.

Eames' private phone came alive with Mika, and as it was telling him to relax and take it easy, he flipped it open. "What's the matter?" he asked immediately, because Ariadne only called him when she was worried. Otherwise she was fond of sending alarmingly clinical text messages that she attempted to defuse with emoticons, but which only made the alarming formality of her messages worse. Someone needed to teach the girl text speak.

"I think there's something wrong with Arthur," she said in a rush. "We're supposed to be running some intel in Singapore, but he refuses to leave his hotel room. He says he's sick and he doesn't want me to catch it, but I don't think he is."

"I'm in Brussels right now. What do you want me to do about it?" Eames said. "I don't know his private number like some of us do, and I'm not going just to fly over and--"

"He started ranting and he said something about _magical nudity_ ," Ariadne said. "I...I have no idea what's going on. Do you think the pressure's got to him? Is this his version of a mental breakdown?" She gasped. "Does Arthur _do drugs_?"

Eames felt his fingers go numb from his knuckles up. "I'll get the next flight out," he said.

 

* * *

 

When Eames arrived at the Grand Hyatt Singapore, he didn't waste any time. Ariadne met him in the lobby, but he told her to go get lunch and do some shopping; leave Arthur to him. She wasn't exactly happy about this, so Eames switched tactics. He reminded her that she and Arthur still had a job to do and did she want to make Cobb mad again. Since using Cobb was a surefire way to guilt Ariadne into anything -- she was still sorry for the time she accidentally spilled the oatmeal over Philippa's head -- she went off, but not before telling Eames Arthur's room number and phone number. 

Eames took the elevator up, and then he banged on Arthur's door. 

"What?" Arthur yelled, and he sounded as crabby as Eames had ever heard him, and Eames had once dropped an ice cube into Arthur's trousers when he wasn't looking.

"Hello, it's me!" Eames said.

"Fuck off!" Arthur replied.

So Eames said, "It's because of me that you're like this! Whatever is going on, it's because I wished on a wishing well that you'd always be naked and--"

Arthur opened the door so fast, there were exhaust fumes. Eames barely got a chance to ogle Arthur's very naked body before Arthur was pulling him inside the room and slamming the door shut. He was quite handsy about it. Once inside the room, he yanked Eames by the collar and tossed him onto the bed. "Your fault?" Arthur said, his cheeks flushed with anger. " _I can't put on clothes anymore_ , _Eames_! Every time I do, they disappear! Look at this!" He grabbed a white dress shirt from an open suitcase and threw it on. He did the buttons. Then he spread his hands as if to say "tada!" and as Eames watched, the shirt went poof and disappeared, leaving Arthur's chest naked once more.

Arthur's naked chest. And arms and legs and groin. It was actually a bit of a sensory overload. Eames didn't know where to look first. 

"Look me in the eye," Arthur snapped.

"Aye aye," Eames said and then he cracked up at the pun. Bad idea. Arthur was not amused by his linguistic stylings.

"I haven't been able to leave this room for over a week," Arthur hissed. "I can't go out into public without being a fucking nudist. I can't even talk to Ariadne in person! Do you know how much of a freak she thinks I am now? She's never going to respect me after this. No one is! I'm going to be Arthur, the point man who can't keep his pants on. Literally!" He sat down on the chair across from the bed and buried his face in his hands. Eames thought about patting him on the shoulder companionably, but stopped for two reasons. One, Arthur was likely to pistol whip him. Two, that was a lot of shoulder to choose from.

Eames kept his hands folded to himself. "All right," he said reasonably. "Let's talk this through."

"I can't believe I'm saying this but tell me about the wishing well," Arthur said.

Eames did, and at the end of it, he added, "As it seems to me, the clearest solution would be for me to go back to England and make another wish to turn you normal."

"What if you only get one wish on that well?" Arthur asked.

"I'll have to find another well then," Eames said. "These bloody things exist all over the world."

"What if that's the only well in the world that was actually magic?" Arthur lifted his face from his hands and groaned. "Eames, do you realize that it could take you years, traveling around the world looking for the one other magical well? I don't have years to wait like a recluse in this hotel room. For one, I'm not even sure the Grand Hyatt allows semi-permanent guests."

"That is a problem," Eames agreed. "Though you'd never have to worry about laundry service."

"You're an asshole," Arthur said.

"You like it," Eames said. "Besides, I'm your only hope right now unless you want to explain to Ariadne your exact predicament." 

Arthur shuddered. "No, you're going to have to stay here with me. You're the only person I know who's been in enough freakish situations that you can't actually blackmail me with this."

"What do you need me here for?" Eames asked. "Not that the prospect of being trapped in a room with you naked is not sending messages of joy throughout my entire soul. Here, I can even take off my clothes if you don't want to feel singled out, sweetheart."

"Keep your clothes on," Arthur barked. Eames' hands paused sadly on his top button. "And I need you to run errands for me. Pick me up some takeout, things like that. I'm sick of room service, and it's getting hard to make excuses about why I'm in the bathroom every time they come up. They're starting to think I'm neurotic."

"Um," said Eames.

"Not a word," said Arthur. He got up and started pacing, which did nothing to hide the beauty that were his thighs and his long, long legs. "God, this has been the most stressful week of my life. I just want to be clothed. Is that too much to ask? Did you really have to make some half-assed nudity wish? If so, why me? Why couldn't it have been Cobb? Or Saito? I bet Saito would have no problem with being naked all the time."

"True," Eames acknowledged. "He'd probably just walk into his board room and dare anyone to say anything about it."

"So why me?" Arthur asked.

Eames shrugged. "You do have mirrors in here, right?" When Arthur didn't say anything, he went on. "You're gorgeous and I've been half in love with you since Vancouver. Is that reason enough?"

"That's...awfully honest of you," Arthur said.

"Considering I'm ruining your life right now, it's the least I can do," Eames said demurely.

 

* * *

 

"What should we do in the meantime then?" Eames asked later.

"Mostly I've just been watching TV and playing a lot of solitaire," Arthur replied. He was sounding more relaxed now that Eames had ordered him some tequila. "Oh, and I hacked into the FBI's database the other day, but that only took me a few minutes so it was hardly entertaining."

Eames stared at him in admiration. Arthur was sitting on the bed with his legs pulled up to his chest, presumably to keep Eames from looking at his dick, but Eames got flashes of it every now and then when Arthur shifted. Arthur, who always had a sixth sense about these things, said, "Sorry, am I distracting you? Don't make me throw a blanket over myself. It's too hot but I'll do it if I have to."

"I wouldn't want you to cover yourself for my sake," Eames agreed, so he turned back to the TV and watched the game show until the bells rang and the lights went off.

"Where's Ariadne?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"I sent her on a wild goose chase," Eames said. "You know, it occurs to me that she's really growing as an extractor. She doesn't even need supervision anymore."

"I know," Arthur said, and there was a measure of pride in his voice. "But don't tell Cobb. He still gets protective over her."

"Do we tell Cobb anything unless we have to?" Eames rolled his eyes. 

"We're not telling him about this, definitely not," Arthur said firmly. And then he reached under his thigh and scratched himself, which sort of blew Eames' mind a little, because while objectively he knew that Arthur had itches and discomforts like every other human being, to see it in action was a whole different story. To see it in action while Arthur was one hundred percent naked, and his fingers scratched only pliant flesh made Eames turn quickly back to the next game show and tuck his hands inside his pockets. Especially when Arthur let out a quiet, satisfied sigh, and then proceeded to swing his legs off the bed and go off in search of the leftover chicken and rice.

It was good that Arthur was comfortable with his body. Not so comfortable that he wanted to parade around in public naked, which was the crux of the entire problem, but that was understandable, Eames thought. Arthur wasn't shy about his body the rest of the time, though, and he certainly thought nothing of turning around and reaching into the takeout bag, presenting Eames with a vision of his arse that was worth a money shot, or two. 

Eames cleared his throat.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Nothing," Eames said. "Just bring a fork for me too." He carefully and discreetly adjusted his trousers, which he was beginning to become an old pro at where Arthur was concerned.

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, sharing a bed was not as big a problem as Eames had anticipated, because the bed in Arthur's room was so gigantic that they could lie on it and still feel like an entire ocean was separating them. Arthur wrapped up his body in the blankets, stretched, sighed comfortably, and said, "Good night, Eames." Then he turned over and blinked in the dark as Eames flicked off the switch. "I mean it," he said, more quietly. "Thanks for coming. I know you could have just fucked off and left me to deal with it alone."

Eames couldn't remember the last time Arthur had thanked him. Desperate times call for desperate measures, he thought, and he found himself smiling back and saying, "You know I'll always come for you."

Awkward silence.

"That was a double entrendre, wasn't it?" Arthur finally said.

"You bring out the beast in me, what can I say?" Eames replied. "Just go to sleep. Maybe in the morning you'll be able to put on clothes again."

"Yeah right," Arthur said, but he rolled over and within a few minutes Eames could hear the evening out of his breath. It took Eames a lot longer than that, personally, and when he woke up the ocean between them had become a trickle, because his hand was on Arthur's thigh and Arthur's head was buried in the crook of his neck. It was rather nice. Even Arthur's hard cock poking him in leg. 

 

* * *

 

Arthur's hard cock.

It deserved a category of its own, the way it was always there in the morning and after a particularly naughty scene on the TV. It was the only time Arthur ever appeared flustered about his nudity, but Eames had assured him that he was fully sympathetic. The body reacted to stimulus. He was guilty of the same thing most of the time, but he didn't have the vulnerability of constant nudity that made it obvious every time his cock swelled or twitched. Unlike Arthur's.

Arthur's hard cock.

Arthur's hard cock.

Arthur's hard cock.

"Good lord," Eames said out loud. "I need to get out of this room."

 

* * *

 

Then one day it was like the pressure really did get to Arthur, or maybe it was the tequila, because Arthur was waiting when Eames finished with the shower, waiting naked for him on the bed. As Eames started rubbing his hair dry with the towel, Arthur got up, walked over, and kissed him.

"Mmmph!" Eames said, and it wasn't exactly the appropriate response when an astoundingly appealing nude man that you've been desiring for years finally slots his body against yours and starts making out with you, but it was the only thing he could think of then. Arthur's mouth was warm with alcohol and laughter, and he slipped his hands under Eames' towel, dropping it to the floor.

"You know when you said you'd be naked too, to even things out, and I said no?" he murmured as he bit a row of kisses againts Eames' lip. "I changed my mind."

"Oh," Eames said faintly. "That's fantastic."

"I haven't had sex in _so long_ ," Arthur said. "It's driving me nuts. I'm half-hard all the time, and it's all your fucking fault, every bit of it." He pushed Eames towards the bed and laid him flat out. Eames was only too happy to comply, and then Arthur was looming over him, dangerous and beloved, mean almost when he started kissing down Eames' damp chest. When Eames tried to rear up and get his hands on Arthur, Arthur pushed him back down. "You get to stare at me all the time," he said. "My turn now. I want to see you." He trailed a finger from Eames' knee up the seam of his thigh, and then he tucked it under Eames' balls and rubbed. Eames made a sound. "Yeah," Arthur said. "Yeah, just like that."

Just as sometimes people forgot how restricted forgers could be, Eames sometimes forgot what greedy cocksluts point men could be. Greedy and beautiful and stunningly generous, especially as Arthur looked at Eames' own hard cock and smiled with the points of his teeth. "Hold on now," he said, and Eames would have objected to the smugness in that tone. Despite Arthur's coolly worded implications when he was angry with Eames, Eames had gotten blowjobs before. It wasn't as if Arthur could hope to match up to some of the absolutely professional jobs he'd had done and--

Okay, so it turned out he could.

Arthur sucked cock like he was going to be tested on it later, and if in the trial run he couldn't make Eames come off spectacularly -- with fireworks behind his eyes and his back arching and toes curling and the whole nine yards -- it meant he wasn't a good boy, he'd never make a future for himself.

"Fuck," Eames said, tilting his head back and panting in the aftershocks. "The fuck!" He barely had the presence of mind to watch Arthur wrap a hand around his cock and jerk himself off leisurely, culminating in a white streaky mess over Eames' chest.

"Best part of this whole experience, for sure," Arthur decided, and then he crawled over a still-stunned Eames to kiss him. "Give me ten minutes and let's do it again."

 

* * *

 

They did do it again.

And again.

And again.

And Eames really did need to get out of the hotel room because he was starting to lose grip on reality -- if there was a reality other than Arthur writhing on his lap, telling him to fuck him harder or he'd shoot him, not even kidding.

 

* * *

 

"I'd ask what you guys are doing in there but I feel the answer is fairly self-explanatory," Ariadne said over the phone. "Don't think I'm not taking your cut of this job, Arthur. Don't think it for a second."

"Whatever," Arthur said, waving his hand lazily as he lay on the bed, fucked out from the latest round of naked gymnastics. But Eames, who was thinking a bit more clearly at this point, gripped the phone.

"Ariadne," he said.

She giggled.

"What?"

"Sorry, it's just when you use that tone, I can't take you seriously," she said. "But go on. What new information are you going to feed me now so that you and Arthur can screw in peace?"

"I'm being frank with you here," Eames said, scowling. "We need you to go to England. There's a town in the south. I'll give you the coordinates. Go to the giant hill directly east of the town. There's a wishing well on top."

"The hell?" Ariadne said.

"Listen to me," Eames said. "Throw a penny into that well and say this out loud: _I wish for Arthur to be able to put on clothes again_. Those words exactly, do you hear me?"

"Are _both_ of you on drugs?" Ariadne asked.

"Ariadne!"

"Fine! Fine!" she said. "I'll do it! But not only do you owe me the entire share for this job, you owe me a million favours. A million!"

"Anything you ask," Eames promised, and he knew he'd regret it one day. Ariadne cackled as she got off the phone. Eames turned to Arthur to deliver the good news. "Well, she agreed. So nothing to do now but wait."

"Mmm, I can think of a few things to do," Arthur said. 

"Oh," Eames replied and strode back towards the bed.

Arthur held up a hand. "Not that."

"Eh?"

"We're going to go online, browse catalogs, and look at all the new clothes I'm going to buy." Arthur's tone elapsed into soft and dreamy. "Think about it. All the beautiful shirts and pants and suits that I'll be able to wear again." His cock started rising towards his chest in a luscious curve. Eames was mortally insulted.

However, Arthur made it up to him, later, and Eames did have to admit that there was a certain extra pleasure in removing Arthur's clothes himself, no magic involved. Take that, wishing well. _Take that._


End file.
